Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Passing of My Mary Mom

This morning I had to tell my children that their grandmother passed away in her sleep.  

Both Adam and I knew before we got the phone call.  He woke at around the time they think her spirit left her body.  I dreamed of hearing voices whisper that she had passed, while I slept.  When my alarm went off, I thought it was just a strange dream, but then my phone rang.

The kids each got to see her yesterday, while she slept in her bed.  It was a difficult experience.  She didn't look like their grandma.  Her face was puffy, and her body was filling up with fluid.  It was hard for them to see her, but so important.

Even though the tumor had grown to the point of her body being left paralyzed, and even though she was in a near-coma state, it seemed like she knew we were there.  It seemed like she moved a little bit a couple of times as the kids went in individually to say their good-byes.

It also seemed like she knew when to let her spirit leave her body.  It was early in the morning, just before my ex-husband went in to check on her.  She wasn't breathing, there was no pulse, but yet her body was still warm.  It was as though she knew that today was her day, but yet she didn't want to leave when her child was in with her to see, just in case seeing her departure would be troubling to him.

It was as though she knew that her other son, who lives out of state, was going to be leaving today to go home anyway.  He had a scheduled flight to leave, and he had decided to leave as planned, and then return later for her funeral.  It was as if she knew he would be leaving, but yet she wanted him to leave knowing she had left first.

Last Sunday, when I visited her at the hospital, it was as if she knew I was there.  I had read to her from the Bible, and I had been talking to her, and then she awoke, looking at me with the only eye that would still open.  She stayed with me for about a half hour.  I mentioned something about her getting better, and it was as if she shook her head ever so slightly in response.  Later, I asked her if she was in any pain, and again I saw the same head shake.  Very slight.  Very subtle.  And it seemed like it was in response to what I had said, even though her emotion was flat, and there was no sense of facial expressions that indicate true awareness.  

I've heard that that was the last time she was awake.  I feel so grateful to God for getting me there when I did.

Sundays were special to Mary.  It was the day she went to church.  It was the day she would make a big dinner and have us over to eat and watch TV, or sit around the table for hours, talking.

Since the divorce of her son and me, and the passing of her husband, the shape of Sunday changed.  She hasn't felt up to going to church for quite a while.  Even before she got really sick, she didn't get back into the habit of going when she moved back to California last year.  But she loved God with all of her heart.  She still does.  She joined Him today, and of all days, it was a Sunday.  I see significance in this too.

The funeral will be next week sometime.  The plans are being made today and tomorrow.  We will be there.  Our desire to honor and respect her will be strong for as long as each of us live.

Please pray for her sons, and her daughter.  This is very difficult for them.  I feel badly for my ex-husband, who lived with her.  When his brother leaves today, and he goes to bed tonight, he will be all alone, and the sadness of that hits me on many levels.

Please pray for the grandchildren.  She has 9.  Please pray for her sisters.  She has 2.  Please pray for her brother.  She got sick and failed so quickly.  This is a terrible shock to them all.

Mary is at peace, of this I know.  Mary is free, of this I know.  I am grateful that she didn't linger long in a body that couldn't hold her well any more.

Thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for the prayer, and for the outpouring of love you have given.  Writing this blog is rewarding in so many surprising ways.

I want to share with you an image--one I am clinging to, because it paints such a beautiful picture of what could be.  I'm seeing my Mary-Mom greeted by her husband, and her mother, and the others who have gone on before her.  I am seeing her face her God for the first time in person.  I am seeing her more happy than she has ever been.  More free than she has ever been.  I am seeing her light with the loss of all of the physical and emotional pain she carried here on earth.

And of all days, it's on a Sunday.  Her favorite day.  It's perfect.

No comments:

Post a Comment